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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23157115">Meet you again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/catastrophage/pseuds/catastrophage'>catastrophage</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Vikings (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Betrayal, Blowjobs, Cop!Heahmund, Crime, Criminal!Ivar, Deprivation of Freedom, Drugs, Dysfunctional Relationship, Hinted Character Death, Kidnapping, Lima Syndrome, M/M, Modern AU, Murder, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Viking Mafia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:42:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,015</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23157115</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/catastrophage/pseuds/catastrophage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivar Lothbrok, legacy of the unfairly executed Ragnar Lothbrok, heir of an empire of drug trades, gets shot at the opening of his newest casino. As he struggles to stay alive, memories of the past months haunt him - memories of one particular man who almost changed his life completely. Only the gods know who will survive, and if this star-crossed love will get a second chance.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Heahmund/Ivar (Vikings)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. ...and the light goes out.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotWhoIAppearToBe/gifts">NotWhoIAppearToBe</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>...whom I'm writing all my Heavar stories for - and with. His interpretation of Heahmund really fuels my wish to write this pairing. I'm sticking to bits of storyline I have written before, rewriting other parts, adding more backstory, possibly taking some new turns - and putting it together as one story easily accessible on here.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter 1: ...and the light goes out.</b>
</p><p>
  <i>There are things that we can have, but can't keep.</i>
</p><p>"Move the slot machines out of the way. The guests will see the dancers and light shows first, they spend enough time at the machines later."<br/>
Ivar clung to his crutch. His leg had gotten worse, he had another episode of his bone disease. His better leg was wearing bandages as well, but he had insisted he'd still walk. He didn't want to open the <i>Lucky Clover</i> in a wheelchair.</p><p>Renovations were going well. He used his drug trade money to pay the workers, and they were working undeclared. Their money would go to booze, to women, gambling and restaurants, and soon nobody could track it back. In the end it would find back to him, because he provided everything a lonely man would need: The Lucky Clover. A casino, serving some good food and wine. Dancers to distract and seduce the guests. They weren't all prostitutes, although some were. Most were just to dance and to motivate the guests to spend some extra by buying another drink or two.<br/>
A few selected ladies were also instructed to rig the bets and games to his favor from time to time.<br/>
"Remember to let them win a few rounds. Play it well, keep it even. And once in a while... I'll win it all."</p><p>He went through the main hall, which was richly decorated, colorful and inviting, towards a corridor opposite of the distracting dancers. Here were the private rooms, the rooms where the real big money was made. Comfortable armchairs and couches, some smaller poker tables. Old fashioned music boxes at the side.</p><p>The last door lead to a staircase. Ivar had went up there a few times, but not today. Not when he couldn't move his legs. He had seen it all near completed. The comfortable bedrooms, small ones for privacy and larger ones for... special parties. He had taken a series of erotic photographs to display in the hallway. His girls and boys were wearing medieval Viking gear - but only weapons and hairstyles. He was especially proud of the picture showing himself in Odin's cloak and staff, complete with ravens, revealing his bare chest but keeping everything else covered in decorative furs and smoke clouds.</p><p>One of his most loyal informants, a former street prostitute named Ruby, opened a secret door in the wall. A back exit for those who couldn't pass the hall on their way out. Ivar shot her a smile. Her info had proven valuable. As a reward he had provided her a room, and drugs of better quality. Less rat poison. And what should he say... she looked great in that black dress with her gemstone earrings and fiery red updo. Only the shades under her eyes and cheekbones still told a story from other times.</p><p>"I suppose our other little project is soon finished as well?"<br/>
Ruby smiled and nodded. "But are you sure about the name? New York seems... unoriginal."<br/>
Ivar rolled his eyes. "It's a perfect name for a dance club."<br/>
Dublin and York. Two cities of his childhood. Two cities heavy of Viking history.<br/>
And both were now his... in a way.<br/>
Now he was truly a king.</p><p>Soon the guests would arrive. The first cars were parking nearby, all with darkened windows, bodyguards shielding their employers from the curious views of a passerby. Ivar paid attention to every single one of them. All guests were important. He had sent out invitations to the grand opening, all those whom he invited were either rich or powerful - or in most cases both. Ivar wanted to take the opportunity to get to know those he had to know... and to forge connections that would help him to progress.</p><p>The Lucky Clover was just the first step, a little prestige project he used to fulfill some of his oldest dreams. Gambling, drinking, sex. If this was the big money, he would stay here and just enjoy it.<br/>
But the real money would be made in his trades, and in reviving the old bay district under his flag into a bigger network of <i>addiction business</i>. He needed both trade partners and investors. He needed people with power to lure in more guests to the bay district, and traders to trade with him behind the facades of entertainment and leisure. </p><p>And those who brought bodyguards were amongst the most promising guests. Some were rivals, maybe - he needed to know. If he played his cards right, by the end of the day he could turn some rivals into partners: a quick accumulation of power. A promise of oligarchy, of reducing the number of other rivals, until either the partnership paid out or drifted apart again, on a now empty chess board where they would continue to circle each other like two lone kings at endgame.</p><p>"So who's the other king?" Ivar asked quietly, eyeing his guests. He would go and meet them, before opening the feast with a big light show. But first of all...<br/>
He left Ruby at the backdoor and followed the alley between the buildings down to the river. The night was clear, the air crisp, unusually cold for this time of the year. Ivar watched his breath form little clouds, dissolving again the next moment. He needed a break. </p><p>Here it all had started, in a couple old warehouses two years ago. Two years and he was almost there. This was what he wanted, wasn't it?<br/>
<i>Almost all that he wanted.</i></p><p>He reached the old pier. Over the years this small pier next to his home had become important to him. More important even than the casino.<br/>
He let his hand slide along the railing. It had started out here. It was where they first met, intentionally. It was where they joked about dating, from where he had lured the man with the stern expression to his loft. The cop he wanted to use to his advantage. But...</p><p>Ivar raised his hand and touched his lips. Memories came up. A disassembled phone. Handcuffs. Heahmund standing at the windows of the big room, staring at the moon. A hot shower, spilled coffee. Heahmund rising from the cold river and climbing back up right here at the pier.<br/>
When had Ivar stopped wanting to use him? When had he started to keep him around for the sake of being with him? He remembered the game they played, the demands each of them made.<br/>
He should never have started to trust him. He should never have let his lust and fascination blind him. The moment they-</p><p>Ivar's thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise. He raised his head. How long had he been out here? Had they started the fireworks without him?</p><p>And then the pain came, stinging, burning in his chest. He coughed, suddenly feeling like he ran against a wall, the air pressed out of his lungs from the pressure. Blood stained his fingers. <i>What the hell...</i> The world faded from his view. Some scrambled thoughts passed through his mind:<br/>
<i>Who? Why? Why now?</i></p><p>A touch was the last thing he remembered. Careful, soft, and concerned. He moved his lips, trying to recall what happened seconds ago.<br/>
But no more words left him, and the light went out.</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Speed Panic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The first flashback comes with pieces of Ivar's family history.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter 2: Speed Panic</b>
</p><p>
  <i>Blood filled his lungs with every breath he took, gasping for air, drowning inside himself.</i><br/>
<i>A cold needle pressed into his skin, while his heart was racing, racing...</i><br/>
<i>Through his closed eyes he could see the strobe lights of the dance floor - blue, white, red - darkness.</i>
</p><p>And then the stage was illuminated.</p><p>Why had he come back here? Recklessly visiting a concert, while out on the street police cars were searching for him.<br/>
Back to the beginning, the crimes he committed. Absentmindedly, his hand reached down for his belt, long fingers cramping around the leather. Below lay his evidence, the only evidence he had knowingly left.</p><p>Three years ago, they had captured him: the legendary <i>Ragnar Lothbrok</i>. Nobody had any doubt in his crimes. He had done nothing less than led a drug cartel, one of the biggest in the east. They had connections to Norway, Denmark, Ireland... England. Familiar connections as well as trade connections. Everyone had heard of the Norwegian mafia, but under a different name: <i>Vikings</i>.<br/>
And it didn't stop at the drugs. They traded opioids from Afghanistan and machine guns from Russia, sold machetes produced in America to war regions in Africa. Ragnar had also dabbled in human trafficking and brought some Chinese girls to Chicago but... Ivar snorted remembering his father's weakness for the ladies and his ultimate grant of freedom to them.</p><p>Ivar had learned about his father's business early on. He knew the types and brands of weapons they traded, he and his brothers had trained on them for hours. <i>Quality testing</i>, they called it. He also learned about the different types of opioids and amphetamines during his teen years. He didn't consume them, however. Not usually.<br/>
His greatest joy was to help his mother launder the money. Aslaug owned a handful of fashion brands. She designed jewelry and decorated vacation homes that ran under her name. What was left of her now were all sweet memories of sitting at a balcony overlooking the beach, playing a board game and sipping some mead.</p><p>Aslaug was dead, shot in the very event that ended in Ragnar's arrest. They should not have trusted the French. Ivar was sure it was the French clan firing the shot. What he knew about the clan war was blurry, vague. He had not been present. He was waking from his thirteenth leg surgery when Ubbe called him: <i>Mother is dead</i>.<br/>
Ivar remembered how just in that moment he looked up at the TV screen above his bed, reading the breaking news. <i>And they got father</i>.</p><p>Three weeks later they read it in the newspaper: <i>Ragnar Lothbrok vanished. Prison under quarantine. No signs of a breakout.</i> Even the press speculated that he might have been executed before his trials even started.<br/>
None of the sons doubted that Ragnar was a criminal. They themselves had helped run a shady business. They had been involved, and they had enjoyed the perks. But the state, they had believed - the state was just. Ragnar would get a trial and then they could visit him from time to time - ask him for his stories. Who knew, maybe he would have published a book from in there.</p><p>The warden of the prison was the first who died. Ten minutes later it was the governor. Another hour later the city mayor. The first two died at their doorsteps, the third when he entered his office. It had been Ubbe who prepared the parcel bombs and organized their placement, but Ivar knew he had blood on his hands, too. They all had. They had planned it together. It was the last thing they had done together.</p><p>The music pulled Ivar out of his thoughts. The bass guitar played a solo, deep sounds vibrated through his body, all the way up to his chest. It felt like a fast heartbeat, like falling in love with the music itself. Or... like a panic attack.<br/>
Ivar staggered to the wall of the basement room and leaned against the firm concrete. He closed his eyes. He didn't go to concerts often, and certainly never intoxicated. It wasn't safe, not for him, who had to be alert at all times. Who was on the run for so long now. He didn't know what got into him to compromise his principles, to end up down here, in midst of a crowd, high on amphetamines. </p><p>It had started at noon, when he saw his youngest brother's face in the newspaper. They had found him. <i>Dead</i>. Every face of a stranger suddenly seemed to stare at him, every movement of their hands seemed like they would point at him. He had moved to another city, under a false identity. There was no way they would find him. And yet he didn't dare to return home, didn't dare to sleep.<br/>
They had found Sigurd <i>dead</i>. Guilt rushed through him, his whole body ached from it. Ubbe and Sigurd had become his rivals, and he had set a trap for the younger. But <i>dead</i>?</p><p>What if they found him now, would they kill him as well? Despite his usually calm and fearless demeanor, Ivar started hyperventilating. Sweaty hands brushed strands of hair out of his eyes. He had started growing it out, after firing the gun. When the detective who arrested his father had fallen to the ground, stripped naked, out in the forest. After the mayor, who had set focus on the persecution of crime, had opened his parcel. He was a murderer, they all were. That's why they were on the run.<br/>
Ivar had changed his appearance. Long hair in place of the military buzz. Sometimes he wore glasses. He had also changed his lifestyle... mostly. Rock music was still a guilty pleasure.</p><p>He felt silly to think the speed would make him alert and keep him awake. His legs were shaky and he could feel his heartbeat throb against his throat. A thousand thoughts ran through his head at once. He had broken his own principles out of despair. Never use. Only sell. <i>Oh yes</i> this night would be a lesson.<br/>
He looked to the stage. He didn't even know the band, it was a small act, and most guests apparently were here for drugs, not music. After hearing just one song he instantly felt drawn to the sound... and the lyrics. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the tune.</p><p>He had heard it before, once. Played by a stranger with a guitar, out on the streets.<br/>
The stranger had piercing eyes. Had he not been tripping, Ivar would have noticed that the eyes of the guitarist on stage were the same. Eyes that would haunt him in his dreams forever.</p><p>That night, though, ended with a blackout.</p><p></p><div class="center">
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Scars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a very short chapter I added on second thought. I'm already writing the next one.</p><p>Somehow all the random guys I kill in my stories are called Matt. Sorry to every Matt out there. It's nothing personal, I just love the name. I promise my next Matt will have it better. Not this one though.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter 3: Scars</b>
</p><p>"They're onto us."</p><p>Ivar raised his head, just by an inch or two. He took a deep breath, counted to three.<br/>
No - he would not stay calm. In one swift movement he turned around and threw his drink at the informant. "They're onto us? Care to explain? They're onto the trade, they're onto the goods, they're onto the dealers?"</p><p>The underling took a corner of his jacket up to clean his face.<br/>
"I don't know," he said, struggling to stay calm himself. "Hal told me. He got it from one of the street kids. The redhead... the one who does blowjobs."</p><p>"Ruby," Ivar mumbled, recalling the name she went by. He had heard of her. She was just barely legal, and addicted to opiates since she was fourteen. "She told him a <i>friend</i> of hers had lost his dealer."<br/>
Ivar rolled his eyes. "And...?" It wasn't unusual that street dealers vanished. They were the pawns in the greater game. He wasn't missing one of his, so it wouldn't be a problem. Even better, there was one competitor less.<br/>
"She might have told him of Matt. And Matt might have told him more than necessary."</p><p>
  <i>What is the worth of a life? What does it take to save a life?</i><br/>
<i>What does it take to take a life?</i><br/>
<i>And who decides who is to live, and who is to die?</i>
</p><p>Boston, his home of choice. The bay lay before them like a deep black cloak on the ground. A black hole, reflecting the city lights just at the outer borders. No stars could be seen - they never saw a lot of stars in this goddamn city.</p><p>Ivar watched his bodyguard remove his gloves. They would dispose of them later. He had done a good job. The force he had used was not visible. Their agent leaned against the wall like a ragdoll, the needle still in his hand.<br/>
"Poor Matt," Ivar said quietly. "Told you this shit was good. Uncut... pure. Now look at you."<br/>
He shook his head. Even if he was found, out here at the dark side of the bay, between the old warehouses... he just had overdosed. A junkie's suicide, no more.</p><p>"We have to find out how much he told them," Ivar said as he opened the car door. "And find the cop who spooked on us. I need a name and a face. Or... his phone. Just get me his phone."</p><p>
  <i>Did he fall asleep? He could feel the tires on the asphalt below, but then the motion of the car stopped.</i><br/>
<i>With a rattling noise the warehouse doors opened. Ivar entered the darkness.</i>
</p><p>He was alone. <i>Finally.</i></p><p>He leaned his crutches against the wall of his bedroom. It was one of the few parts of the house that was separated from the rest - a former office room. The large bed filled it almost completely.<br/>
Ivar lit a candle and turned the lamps off. Just the little flame was still seen. He didn't like to undress with the lights on. He didn't want to see all the scars on his hips and legs, most of them from surgery. He didn't want to be reminded of the mistake one surgeon made, that cost him his ability to walk. The long and troublesome path from the wheelchair to his crutches.<br/>
As well trained as his arms were, as weak looked his legs. No muscles. Just skin and bones... and scars.</p><p>Sitting on the bed, he pushed his shorts down to the floor. Five little marks told another story. Five little marks right under his hip bone. Nobody would ever see them, unless they undressed him all the way. And then he would tell them sweet lies about hating his body so much.</p><p>But that wasn't what they were for. He recalled Matt, lying lifeless on the ground.<br/>
"Number six," he whispered and reached for the knife waiting on his nightstand.</p><p></p><div class="center">
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Cellphone and a Large Pizza</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another short chapter. Beware of stalking Ivar.</p><p>You may have noticed that the small paragraphs posted in italics seem a little disconnected. That's because it's Ivar's present life mingling with his past. Present Ivar has arrived at the hospital and is only subconsciously listening to the voices around him, while his mind gets the next flashback.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter 4: Cellphone and a Large Pizza</b>
</p><p>
  <i>"No identification."</i><br/>
<i>"What do you mean, no identification?"</i><br/>
<i>"No wallet. No passport."</i><br/>
<i>"What about his phone? Where is his phone?"</i>
</p><p>A cellphone... such a small tool. And yet so valuable.</p><p>A simple cover to keep it protected: black, elegant.<br/>
Ivar nodded in acknowledgement.</p><p>He turned the phone in his hands, felt the cold glass against his skin. Then he switched the screen on. The guy who obtained it for him had done a good job: it was charged more than halfway, and unlocked. The pin protection was deactivated, at least until the device was turned off completely. The small tool lay in his hands like an open book... a book telling the story of a man who searched him.</p><p>With a sigh, Ivar reached for a pen and empty notebook he brought along. He wouldn't work from home today... this kind of job required a change of place. He sat in the same bar where the phone had been stolen, to avoid any GPS tracking. A neutral place for some delicate work. Because that's what it was. He needed to know the man behind this phone, and he couldn't let him know of his advantage.</p><p>At first he just scrolled through the apps. Nothing special there, just communication tools and social media. <i>Social media</i>. Ivar shook his head. The last thing he'd do would be to open a social media account and run it on his phone. On the first page of his notes he wrote which apps he would open. The web-browser, of course. Facebook. Twitter. On a second thought he added Youtube, a sports news ticker and a food ordering app.</p><p>App by app he added info to his mind map. The mysterious detective was obviously a baseball fan, the news ticker was set to follow events of certain teams. He liked pizza and Mexican food. "Predictable," Ivar mumbled. He filled the shopping cart with things from the order history. "Have a large pizza today, won't you?"</p><p>What he was really interested in was the address field and payment info, both saved in the phone cache. He paused what he was doing, a content smile on his lips.<br/>
This was easy. With bold letters he wrote a name on the next blank page, drawing a square around it. <i>Heahmund Bishop</i>. He noted down the address below and placed the order. In the notes he requested that the delivery person winked at the recipient, even though he was not sure if they would do it. "Bon appétit." </p><p>The browser tabs next, then the social media. He stopped scrolling twice - the first time when he saw the first picture of the man in question. He just stared at it for a while. Somehow he didn't look like expected. Ivar wasn't even sure what that would have been. But this man? He looked good. Handsome, younger than expected and strangely soft - but Ivar would be a fool to underestimate him.<br/>
"No, he's a specialist. He's a great man, and if I don't take care he will find me before I find him."</p><p>The next time he stopped as he saw a band name. It rang a bell, distantly. He noted it down as well, underlined it even, to remind himself to look it up later. But once he reached the image gallery on Heahmund's phone, he knew what it was. That concert a while ago. The one where he had been tripping, it had been <i>him</i> on stage. This man.<br/>
"What kind of a detective are you?" he whispered. </p><p>He sent one of Heahmund's pictures to a printing service, providing the bar's address. Much safer than sending it to his own phone. He would pay the barkeeper some good money to keep quiet about the delivery.<br/>
Meanwhile - like a puzzle - the mind map got filled with info. Valuable and less valuable, important for business and just for fun. Some things he would certainly taunt him with, if they ever met each other. Three more pages of notes. <i>Knowledge is power</i>.</p><p>He turned the page for his last task. Contacts. So far he had ignored all the messaging tools, the calls and texts. He wouldn't have the time to work through all of them. Not here, not without a phone charger. And he'd be damned to take this wicked piece of trackable technology home. </p><p>But he did note the contact info of people the man had contacted in the past three months. And he opened the last few texts.<br/>
<tt>Made contact. Confirmed. Hvitserk Lothbrok.</tt><br/>
Hvitserk... so the cop wasn't after his drugs and trades. He was much, much more dangerous.</p><p>Of all his brothers he had to find Hvitserk. Sweet Hvit who didn't want to be involved in any more trades. Who had always consumed drugs more than he sold them. Who had stayed with Ubbe during the first months, then with Ivar... just to return to Ubbe again. Ivar loved his older brother, the only one he still talked to. But he had to admit that Hvitserk was a weak link, the weakest of them all. If Heahmund got him, he was lost.</p><p>"I think it's about time we meet each other," Ivar said quietly and switched the screen off. A wipe with dish soap took care of the fingerprints. He would store the phone here, at the bar. Right under Heahmund's nose, counting on him revisiting the place. If asked, he had lost it and it was found. The barkeeper would play along.</p><p></p><div class="center">
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A proper date ends with a kiss.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had planned to post chapter 5 and 6 at once, but then decided to split it up in two chapters. It's long.<br/>This is one of the parts I wrote together with <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotWhoIAppearToBe">NotWhoIAppearToBe</a> - credit for most of Heahmund's dialogue goes there!<br/>I have revised and rewritten a big chunk of it for AO3. Chapter 6 will follow soon.<br/>This is the fluffiest abduction scene I've ever written.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter 5: A proper date ends with a kiss.</b>
</p><p>
  <tt>Chelsea Creek north pier. Location data is attached. Meet me alone.</tt>
</p><p>Ivar's phone rang. The wind carried the sound over the pier, to the water. The title melody of a TV series. He grinned and rejected the call. He knew what it meant: one of the girls he had positioned on the rooftop of the warehouse was giving him a sign that the cop came alone. He had provided the picture and a spyglass. No call if it wasn't safe. No call if it wasn't Heahmund himself. Ivar straightened his jacket and left his hiding spot in the shadows of his loft. He went on both crutches, to appear as less of a threat, but his gun was ready to reach in his waistband. He didn't bother trying to sneak up to the other man. He must have heard his phone, and now he would hear the clinking of the crutches on uneven pavement. "Nice to meet you," he greeted, when he was close enough to be heard. "Heahmund Bishop. Or - what was your stage name again? I'm a fan." He smirked.</p><p>Just for a split second, Heahmund's expression changed. But he quickly caught himself, returning to a frown. Ivar had seen his eyes though. They had recognized him. He remembered. This almost warmed his heart. He had been a total mess back then, but it was nice to know someone had thought of him, while he had been almost collapsing from his speed-induced panic attack.</p><p>"I'm here to invite you," he said quietly. Ivar leaned against the railing, put one of his crutches aside so he could use his hand and appear more relaxed, more natural. "Have a coffee with me. I think I deserve one, for all the trouble I had finding you."<br/>
No, it had been easy. All he needed was his phone. But that wouldn't be a very flattering statement. "How has the music been? Do you still go on stage? With your..." - a dismissing hand gesture - "...<i>day job?</i>"</p><p>Ivar looked closely at the face of the other man. He needed to see his reaction, so he could quickly assess the situation. He noticed bruises that were halfway healed. It wouldn't be easy to track Ragnar's sons down. The cop was probably lucky he didn't try to find Ubbe first, or he'd lie here with a bullet in the neck instead of the scratches and bruises he got.<br/>
What surprised Ivar was to find him smile. A mocking smile, accompanied by a mocking tone in his voice. "I find it hard to believe that a fan would go through all the trouble to meet a cop who just happened to dabble in music as a hobby. Unless you're a secret stalker?"</p><p>"Maybe I am," Ivar said in his soft voice. "...a secret stalker. Would you like that? All the attention I pay to you because your music moved me so much." He chuckled. "I didn't know you were a cop when I visited that concert."</p><p>"And I didn't realize you were this young when I saw you in the crowd."<br/>
Had Heahmund thought of him that night? Ivar couldn't even remember how he returned home, but to Heahmund it must have meant something seeing him. Maybe that explained the smile. Maybe he was surprised by the turns of fate.<br/>
Which would be good, Ivar thought. Surprise would help him.</p><p>When he didn't continue the conversation, Heahmund took over. He seemed to be in a weirdly good mood about meeting the boy from the concert. "So... you offered coffee? After all the trouble of finding me, we can discuss it all over a cup. Would that be our first date?"</p><p>Ivar wasn't sure if Heahmund was confused and enjoyed the spontaneous events, or if he had already figured who his <i>secret stalker</i> was. Those were the only explanations he could think of, for the cop risking so much, trusting him so much. Inwardly, Ivar cursed himself for believing that long hair and a pair of glasses would make him invisible to a professional. Just a gay hipster dude, trying to get into the pants of his favorite musician? How naive he had been. But outside he remained calm. It wouldn't matter in the end. Heahmund was here, with him. And he wasn't going anywhere.</p><p>"Coffee it is. I know a good place right here at the bay. I expect a conversation between two men who met by chance - twice. If you expect a date that's cool too. But you should know that a proper date ends with a kiss. I'll remind you."<br/>
Ivar reached for the crutch he had put aside and pushed his body off the railing, ready to move. He would lead Heahmund to the backside exit of his warehouse loft.</p><p>Heahmund laughed. "If you don't remind me, I'll remind you."<br/>
Was he flirting with him? Ivar was glad he was walking in front, so he could hide his smile. No matter how cute he thought Heahmund was, he couldn't allow himself to get careless. Not yet. Not before they reached his home. He wouldn't notice the cop draw a gun if he decided to do so, and while he would hear handcuffs, he certainly couldn't do much to evade them. Heahmund had retrieved his phone - at least there was a flat rectangle bulge in his pants - so he could call for support. </p><p>But he didn't seem to want that. Ivar wondered why. Had he not noticed his gun yet? Had he not realized who he was, after all?<br/>
"Don't mind us taking the back exit. As you may have noticed, I'm not keen on walking any extra turns around the building." He retrieved his key from a pocket and opened the door. Reaching inside, he switched on the light, but like a gentleman he stayed outside and held the door open for Heahmund. "It's the best coffee. I promise."</p><p>Ivar waited for Heahmund to enter and followed him through a dark passage along the doors to old machine rooms, towards his main room. He made sure to lock the door behind them, and hid the key in his pocket.<br/>
"Kitchen is straight ahead, you can't miss it." And indeed, it was right at the center of the room. Just one wall separated it from the other areas. Quietly, he started the coffee maker.<br/>
Heahmund leaned against a counter and looked around the room. He seemed to take in every detail of his surroundings. Then he spoke again. "You know my name. Am I ever going to get yours?"</p><p>Ivar tilted his head. "I'm not a fan. Although I really did enjoy your music the one time I heard it."<br/>
He smiled slightly as he watched the machine prepare their coffee. Then he reached under the counter to get out some liquors and flavors in case Heahmund liked them.<br/>
"My name is Ivar," he finally told him. He didn't bother about the surname. No matter what Heahmund knew, he didn't intend to let him leave again. With a nod to the nearby couch he added: "And I think that it's not me but you, who's stalking."</p><p>Heahmund frowned and turned towards the younger. This, in turn, surprised Ivar. So he didn't know? Why did he follow him?<br/>
"No more games, Ivar. We did not meet by chance. You found me, you sought me out. Why did you bring me here?"<br/>
With a flop, Ivar dropped down on the couch. Heahmund would sit as well, that he was sure of. They had agreed on it, and they had coffee.<br/>
He first put his crutches away, then his gun, which he put on the table in reach. Heahmund had his own anyway.</p><p>Then Ivar looked up and, maybe for the first time, held eye contact for more than a split second.<br/>
"You are here because I think that you wanted to find me. Here I am. You found me."<br/>
He grinned at that last part, maybe even a little proud of having found the cop first.<br/>
"You also found my dear brother Hvitserk it seems. So I thought it was about time."<br/>
He nodded to the coffee. "About time we drink a cup or two and talk."</p><p>"I found him per chance." Heahmund's mood had visibly dropped. "I had no intention of ever talking to a Lothbrok."<br/>
Hard to believe, but Ivar just shrugged and nipped on his drink. In the end it didn't matter if Heahmund was after the drug trades or after his family name. He had entered his territory, so now he was here, on his couch.<br/>
"You wanted to talk? Let's talk," Heahmund hissed. "You found me and you seem to know more about me than I know about you. Is this the part of the evening when you're friendly, and at some point tomorrow I'll wake up inside one of these warehouses, tied up and tortured? Will I make it out of your apartment alive? So many questions."</p><p>Ivar swallowed a question of his own down with help of his coffee. Why had Heahmund followed him? He leaned in a bit closer and put his cup back on the table.<br/>
"I won't torture you. Not yet. I dare not to judge whether you make it out alive. It greatly depends on your... will to cooperate." A sigh left his lips. It would be a waste to kill him. He was nice, well behaved and good looking - compared to most other men he knew.<br/>
"Give me your phone. That will help you stay alive a little longer."</p><p>"You do realize it wouldn't take much for me to kill you first?"<br/>
Despite his snappy remark, Heahmund reached him his phone and Ivar took it into his hands.<br/>
He shook his head. "You don't want to kill me first. For once, you would have already done so. But it also would put you into an ugly position. Charged for murder, that's not something you want."<br/>
Ivar knew he was right. Heahmund was not a killer. And the lack of protest from the older only confirmed it.</p><p>"Be careful," Heahmund said nodding to his phone. His voice was a little quieter now. "It’s new. I’d hate to have to replace it so soon after I spent a fucking fortune on it."<br/>
At first Ivar had considered using his gun for the dramatic effects, but now he would handle it carefully just as Heahmund wished. He switched it off. No GPS tracking. Opening it with skilled fingers, he removed all chips and the battery from the inside and let them drop into his drink. No calling colleagues. No secretly recording his voice. Like this, he put it back together and placed it onto the table, the device itself unharmed.</p><p>Once he was done, he looked up into the older man's eyes. "You're in a pretty bad mood, considering you wanted this to be a date."<br/>
Now Heahmund laughed. Ivar grinned. His laughter was surprisingly beautiful, even if a little hysteric.<br/>
"No offense Ivar, but this isn't exactly a dream date. You've stalked me, threatened me and you've destroyed part of my brand new phone. That kiss better be the best one I've ever had."</p><p></p><div class="center">
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Stockholm Syndrome</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's the other half of the huge chapter I posted in two parts. Prepare for some kissing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <b>Chapter 6: Stockholm Syndrome</b>
</p><p>When Heahmund finished his bout of despair and sobered up, back to his frown, Ivar got up. He picked up his crutches and went back to the kitchen to prepare a second round of coffee. "Now empty your gun and mine. We both don't want to kill each other, we can as well reduce the danger of accidentally doing so."</p><p>Ivar leaned against the counter, while he listened to the clicking of the magazines.<br/>
"I wouldn't have stalked you, had you not sought contact to my business. I needed to know who was after me." It was refreshing to be able to talk all openly and honestly to a cop. While he was talking, he moved his keys from his pocket into the seam of his shorts. Another safety measure. The more openly he talked, the better it was to keep Heahmund locked in. "I might have just watched you. But you mentioned Hvitserk. I couldn't risk you find out more."</p><p>Ivar reached the freshly filled cups and returned to the couch. He felt amazingly calm. It was almost like Heahmund's presence made him feel at ease. "So you did want to find me, and you have. What are you going to do now?"<br/>
"There's not much I could do. And I can't tell you anything anyway."<br/>
Heahmund accepted the coffee and inhaled the fumes while it still was too hot to drink.<br/>
"I could ask some questions, but wouldn't it be a waste of time?"</p><p>"Go ahead, ask," Ivar offered when he shifted back to his position next to Heahmund. He quickly checked both guns and tossed them onto a nearby armchair, far enough from the ammunition. Taking out his own phone, he started a music app. A new playlist, at a low volume, filled with songs he knew they both enjoyed. "It's your date. Your choice of conversation." </p><p>"Nice song," Heahmund commented. Ivar could see how he tried to force himself to relax. How he sank deeper into the cushions, and took some deep breaths. "Besides this being our first date - are you seeing anyone?"<br/>
Now it was on Ivar to laugh. He almost spilled his coffee, but he quickly controlled himself.<br/>
"Come on," Heahmund protested at his reaction, even though he himself had to suppress a grin. "A guy needs to know whom he's getting involved with. The question is not far off."</p><p>"Sometimes it's better not to know," Ivar answered, still grinning. "What if it turns out I am? Then we both are assholes." He chuckled, then he shook his head. "No I'm not. But how do you know you have a chance with me? I could be straight. It's not exactly uncommon."</p><p>"Are you?" Heahmund's eyes changed slightly. For a moment it seemed like he had had hopes, hopes that could get crushed now. As if he had wanted this date for much longer. As if... did he really think of him after the concert? Had he maybe even remembered him from their first passing by, when Heahmund was playing his guitar on the street? "I'd rather know now."</p><p>"Do you actually want to date me?"<br/>
No mocking, just curiosity. Ivar hoped his voice had been calm and sincere enough to bring that across. And the answer came promptly: "Yes."</p><p>Ivar stood up, a serious expression on his face. He pushed the table aside, so he had room to move - on shaky legs, barely in balance. Heahmund's voice behind him sounded calm, maybe even a little sad. "But would you date someone like me? A cop?"</p><p>He turned around to face Heahmund, cupped his face in his hands.<br/>
"You may not have realized it yet, but you won't get out of here easily. And as long as you stay inside... for all I care you're not a cop."<br/>
Heahmund had no more means to communicate with the outside world. The doors were locked, the guns tossed out of reach. He could be anything he wanted to be now. As long as no word left the building, Ivar did not care.</p><p>He leaned in and pressed his lips on Heahmund's. One hand left his face and reached for the shoulder. He had a strong grip, his arms and hands had always been stronger than his legs. If Heahmund had wanted, he could have pushed him over. He could have knocked him out and taken the keys. Or used his phone for an emergency call. But to Ivar it seemed that it was not the cop Heahmund sitting in his warehouse loft. It was the <i>musician Heahmund</i>. And Ivar liked the thought.</p><p>Strong arms wrapped around Ivar's waist. Warm hands pressed against the small of his back. Ivar smiled into the kiss and parted his lips, allowing Heahmund to intensify it. And it felt good. He enjoyed the taste of coffee mixed with the smell of Heahmund's aftershave. </p><p>Eventually he broke the kiss. He was just standing there, in front of the cop who had come too close in his investigations. One hand on his shoulder, half an embrace. "Now it's a date," Ivar whispered, still smiling slightly.<br/>
"But we're going to have to talk business again. If you want to get out alive. And..." Ivar pondered. "Do I have to  fake a reason for your disappearance?" He pulled a small sheet of paper from his pocket, a handful of notes scribbled on it.<br/>
"<i>Judy</i>... Judith I assume. Is there a reason you could visit her for some days, maybe a week? Is she family? Could she be pregnant? Needing your help?" Ivar let go of Heahmund's shoulder and sat down again. He stayed close, very close, and started searching his date for handcuffs and smaller weapons. As both of his hands searched Heahmund's belt area, he placed another kiss on the man's lips. Keeping it nice? Ivar gladly did so.</p><p>"Fine. But no more threats," Heahmund said, his voice sounding weak suddenly, raspy. He appeared to be disappointed by the flicker of romance being over so soon. "You're different Ivar. You know that?"<br/>
And yet... Ivar found something he didn't search for. He left it uncommented - nearly.<br/>
"You seem to enjoy different." </p><p>Heahmund ignored the remark and gave him the info he wanted. "I'm suspended. I live alone. Nobody will miss me for a while."<br/>
Inwardly, Ivar felt gleaming from joy. Suspended. They had a day or two, maybe longer. Enough time to settle all formalities.</p><p>And he found the handcuffs. With a clicking noise, Ivar put a cuff around Heahmund's wrist. He acted quickly, anticipating some wrestling, but hoping that Heahmund would be too puzzled to act. While he let himself drop onto Heahmund's lap, not exactly gently as he could not bend both his legs, he pulled his other wrist to the back and added the second cuff. What followed was a close hug, almost tender, while he activated the lock mechanism.<br/>
Ivar grinned, aware that this would not have worked if Heahmund was not enjoying this. He was likely trained in self defense, much better than Ivar was. But something was holding him back. And, shifting on his lap slightly, Ivar knew exactly what it was.<br/>
As soon as he noticed Heahmund wanting to protest, he caught his lips in another kiss. Feeling how turned on Heahmund really was excited him as well.<br/>
"A secret dream of yours?" Ivar whispered, teasingly. He opened the belt to put it away and kept searching the pockets. A key and... he turned the condom around between his fingers. "Oh yes, definitely some secret dreams."</p><p>"What are you going to do to me? Is this your understanding of talking business?"<br/>
A raspy whisper, heavy with arousal. </p><p>Ivar kept playing with the small condom package. Eventually he just put in onto the table like all the other things he found. "Business? Sure. Let's talk business. What are they going to do with the info Hvitserk is in town?"<br/>
Ivar didn't know what his brother had done to draw Heahmund's attention. He figured he would be stupid enough to engage in street crime and get caught. Or his good for nothing girlfriend had ratted him out. What counted was that Heahmund had sent a message about finding him and Ivar was determined to stop whatever progress had started with it.<br/>
"My dear brother is innocent. He's soft." Ivar almost believed that himself. "I don't want him to cause me trouble, and I don't want him to get in trouble. You understand that, don't you?"<br/>
One hand raised, he caressed Heahmund's cheek, followed the shape of his lips with his index finger.<br/>
"How are we going to prevent any... <i>trouble</i> to happen?"</p><p>"You already know as well as I do that I won't tell you a goddamn thing. You should probably call your guys to get ready to torture me."<br/>
So that was the limit. He could do whatever he wanted to Heahmund, but when essential, he would not cooperate. With a sigh, Ivar got up and limped over to his crutches.<br/>
"Alright. You won't tell me your secrets, which might be fair because I'm not telling you mine. Admittedly - you are the one sitting handcuffed on my couch, but let's ignore the imbalance of power for a moment. I don't want you to endanger anyone. Your partners? Your informants? I don't care. I just want you to help me stop whatever was started."</p><p>Ivar started pacing a bit, moving through the living room area of his loft on his crutches. "I know I'm not asking the impossible. We've just started... <i>dating</i>, afterall. I want my brother out of immediate danger of being caught and interrogated. That's all. Can you do that?"<br/>
The truth was, Ivar was scared, not just for him, but also for Hvit. He had info against Ivar, but he knew far more about Ubbe. And while Ivar clearly would not mind Ubbe to get behind bars for any extended amount of time... Sigurd had been killed for less. What would happen to his brothers? What would happen to Hvitserk, if there was the danger of him talking?<br/>
"How about this... you have not seen him. You checked old pictures and the composite sketch and came to the conclusion it can't be him. You made an error. Then you confirm the identity of the boy in question... as someone else."</p><p>"Open your eyes Ivar. Your brother is lost. You may have found your place, but he didn't. He chose to join a gang to replace his family and a place where he belongs because he obviously didn’t get that from any of you."</p><p>Ivar looked at Heahmund for a long while. He had to digest what he had heard. He had not known Hvit had joined a gang. But when Heahmund mentioned it, he immediately knew which one he meant. And that really made it hard for his brother to get out alive.<br/>
Hvit was the weakest link, to all of them. One thought sneaked into Ivar's mind. Maybe it was better he'd finish it. End Hvitserk's life himself. Ensure no information was spread and grant him a quick and painless death on opioids, as opposed to whatever Ubbe or his gang might do. If he could kill his own brother... nobody would doubt he was coldhearted.</p><p>The thing was just, he wasn't. Hvitserk was his favorite family member, ever since their mother's death. They weren't tight, but now that he learned - or believed to learn - the full extent of the trouble he was in, he felt the dire need to protect him.<br/>
Ivar glanced back to their guns. He would have to put them back together and leave his home for a couple hours.</p><p>"Promise that the police is Hvit's smallest trouble. Do they track him yet?" Ivar's eyes searched for Heahmund's. He hoped that he had said the truth.<br/>
"I've been suspended right after I found him. I doubt my investigation will go anywhere as long as I'm here with you."<br/>
So that was it? Someone had already thrown a rock in the way of the investigation? Maybe Ubbe had taken care of it. But he couldn't trust Ubbe, not after what he'd done. Some pieces of his mind puzzle seemed to match, and all of a sudden he returned to Heahmund's lap, tossing his crutches to the ground carelessly. "Help me get Hvit out of trouble and I'll help you get a bigger fish than him. Hvit is just lost. I'll get him out of that gang."<br/>
They should go and get Ubbe. Or die trying. </p><p>A small sigh. Ivar soughed for Heahmund's eyes. The interesting play of colors. He would have to make sure to keep this man away from Ubbe. He would have to watch his back. He wasn't sure if this cop-in-handcuffs was even aware how dangerous his eldest brother was. Heahmund was too sweet to die so soon. If anyone had to kill him... Ivar wanted to be the one.<br/>
"You won't get out just like this," he whispered. "So you can as well help me."</p><p>"As I said, no one else but me is working on that case. The department doesn't bother about it, they think it's a waste of time. Your brother's gang, however - that's an entirely different beast. So far I'm the only one who knows he is involved. I don't know for how long."</p><p>This meant Hvitserk had to leave the gang. Ivar would bring him home. Tie him up as well, if he had to.<br/>
"I have to leave. I will take an hour, maybe two. I'm sure you have a spare key for those cuffs."<br/>
He leaned in and touched the metal around Heahmund's wrist, to underline what he meant. "Tell me where it is, and I'll go sooner, return sooner."</p><p>He started to search Heahmund's belt, which he had put on the table before. "If I don't find it I'll undress you, to make sure." Ivar himself wasn't quite sure if that was a threat or a promise. He grinned, facing away from the cop. All this... was much more fun than he had expected. Had he known the cop that was after him was not just handsome, but also gay... had he known he could easily lure him into his home and handcuff him on the couch... he would have done this earlier, and not under such pressing circumstances as Hvitserk's possible discovery.<br/>
"I like you so I won't mind it," Ivar said quietly, but he had already found the key in a hidden spot at the inside of the belt. "Any others?"</p><p>Heahmund shook his head. "No. That's it. How long will you keep me here?"<br/>
Ivar's answer, as he rearranged his keys to his pocket and gathered the guns and phones, was simple.<br/>
"I will keep you here until I'm one-hundred-percent sure that you not being here won't get me in trouble."<br/>
He could have answered <i>indefinitely</i> but he had a feeling that Heahmund wouldn't like that either.<br/>
"I will leave, come back and hopefully find you still sitting here." He didn't expect more than this. If he didn't hurry, Heahmund would probably find a way to free himself, leave the building or call for help. In that case both he and Hvit would be fucked. But he would take the risk.<br/>
Hvit had to come home before whatever he was in dragged him down. Ivar turned back around and gave Heahmund a peck on the forehead.</p><p>"Come back and wait until you and your brother can dig a shallow grave or push me off the pier?"</p><p>"You're wrong," Ivar said quietly, while putting the guns back together. "Staying here is your best chance to stay alive." Then he took his crutch and went out of Heahmund's sight, to the front door. He turned the key twice. </p><p><i>I could have shot him. I should have shot him,</i> he thought when he left to find his brother.</p><p></p><div class="center">
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Number Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A very short chapter thrown in before we return to Heavar!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <b>Chapter 7: Number Seven</b>
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  <i>"We need oxygen. Pneumothorax. BP falling. Prepare the OR."</i>
</p><p>He would be found. There was no doubt, someone would find him.<br/>
Someone would walk alongside the water and spot him floating.<br/>
And this time, he wanted it that way. </p><p>He wanted the news to spread. Number seven, drowned in the bay area under the influence of mixed opiates and alcohol. Ivar inhaled the smoke of his cigarette.<br/>
He had remained in the background. The only purpose of his appearance was to make sure his men played by the rules: no force, no marks of violence.</p><p>They had started with simple narcotics in his drink. When he felt dizzy and drowsy, they had lured him out and added the heroin. Just a small dose - he had no track marks yet.<br/>
It was his first dose. The poor boy had needed something stronger today.</p><p>It was easy to drag him along in the following minutes. He even almost volunteered to jump into the bay alone. It was a good night for a swim - floating on the back, watching the stars.<br/>
One push against his chest. Too little oxygen in the lungs, too slow movements, and soaked clothes.<br/>
Ivar had watched him drown. Fifteen minutes. He did not move anymore.</p><p>Ivar took his portable ashtray and stubbed out his cigarette. He would not drop it at a crime scene. Number seven, drifting in the water, the biker jacket with the wolves logo floating around him like a bubble. </p><p>Tonight he would add another scar under his hip bone.<br/>
The new frequency was a little unsettling. The last one was not healed yet.</p><p>The only chance he had to get Hvitserk out, was to destabilize the gang. He wanted the leaders to be arrested, he wanted them to lose their caution. He would end the life of another experienced member, and set traps for the ones taking their place.</p><p>On his way back home he went by Hvitserk's apartment. He left a message for his brother:<br/>
<tt>Don't go out tonight. Switch your phone off. Burn your jacket.</tt><br/>
<tt>I love you.</tt></p><p></p><div class="center">
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another chapter for and with <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotWhoIAppearToBe">NotWhoIAppearToBe</a>.<br/>This one is not so fluffy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <b>Chapter 8: The Moon</b>
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  <i>"BP returns to normal. Heart rate still high."</i><br/>
<i>He could feel himself smile. His memories... made him smile.</i>
</p><p>Ivar entered the dark room. Had he not left the lights on? Had it still been daylight when he left? He ran a hand through his hair, trying to process all the things that had happened. Meeting Heahmund, bringing him home. Sweet kisses during some... necessary procedures. Then Hvitserk, trying to get him into safety. It had taken much longer than expected.</p><p>From the corner of the eye, Ivar looked at Heahmund. He had noticed that he left his spot on the couch, but it didn't take long to find him near the windows. He quickly checked his phone, then switched off his screen and approached the other man.<br/>
"Feel at home yet?" He expected anger, or at least a snarky remark. Some bitter sarcasm. But first... "I'm glad you're still here."<br/>
If only he knew Hvitserk wasn't in trouble. Ivar ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture.<br/>
<i>Screw it.</i> Screw being cautious. Ivar leaned against the wall right next to the windows.<br/>
"Want to kiss again?"</p><p>Heahmund didn't move. He just stood there, staring at the moon. Only one thought crossed Ivar's mind while he watched Heahmund staring out of the window, avoiding eye contact: <i>shit.</i><br/>
Heahmund was still there, which was a nice circumstance - at least one part of the plan had worked. But the casual mood, the flirtatious tension from earlier seemed to have vanished. Instead, the other man seemed cold. Almost as if he was dissociating, his eyes fixed on the moon.<br/>
"May I have some water please?"</p><p>Some water. Alright. Ivar pushed himself off the wall again, holding onto one of his crutches. He was about to go to the kitchen in the center of the room, but getting no further reaction from Heahmund - no emotion at all, no turn of the head - unsettled the younger. And this insecurity, no matter how small, made him angry. He took two more steps towards the room, so that he stood behind Heahmund. His hand reached for the handcuffs and he gave them a hard yank, pulling Heahmund backwards. In the same movement he let go of them again, not allowing Heahmund's inevitable fall to bring him out of balance. The older landed on the floor backwards.<br/>
"You know where the kitchen is," Ivar hissed, a little rougher than he wanted. He caught himself sending a glare. As soon as he realized it, he looked away and tried to soften his expression. Why was he angry all of a sudden? Again, his hand found its way into his long hair, pushing it back. He took out his phone again to check for messages of Hvit. But no - nothing.<br/>
Visibly unnerved, Ivar went to the kitchen himself.</p><p>"I can't hold a glass and I won't drink from the faucet. I'm not a dog."<br/>
Was that pride? "You won't drink from the faucet, but roll up on my couch," Ivar scoffed.<br/>
He made him a glass of water anyway and placed it onto the counter.</p><p>"Do you have an aspirin or something? My head hurts."<br/>
Heahmund had gotten up and moved back to the couch, his face actually grimaced in pain.<br/>
"I'm gonna crash on your couch if you don't mind."</p><p>"Medicine is in my bedroom."<br/>
Ivar wished he could stop being angry and return to the fun they had before. But here they were, snapping each in their own way, neither showing the will to conciliate. </p><p>He didn't have any aspirin. Ivar's painkillers started at morphine, for everything less he would have a strong drink instead. But if Heahmund would insist... he would get something against the pain. Ivar sighed. His anger barely faded, but at the same time he felt pity for the man on his couch. He had been nice. Helpful.<br/>
"You can sleep in my bed," he offered. It was probably safer anyway. He looked at Heahmund - what he could see of him from this position - then he took the drink and brought it to the bedroom. He would have to do something about the handcuffs. It was impractical. Ivar himself usually avoided carrying things through his home. He felt strangely vulnerable with both his hands in use.<br/>
"Follow me," he said loudly while vanishing behind one of the few doors of the place. A small corridor, his bedroom to the left. Ivar put the glass of water on his night stand and let his knife vanish in one of the drawers. </p><p>Heahmund appeared in the doorframe behind him. "Am I going to sleep with these cuffs on? If so, can you at least move them to the front?"<br/>
Ivar didn't respond at first. Instead he turned to a cabinet on the wall and searched for the medicine. Morphine. He had pills of a dose low enough that it shouldn't knock Heahmund out completely. After taking one out, he put it on the night stand, right next to the water. Of course he couldn't take it. Not with his arms like this. Ivar pondered having him sit - or kneel - and feeding him the medicine. He would enjoy the humiliation. Heahmund would not. "Lie down on my bed, let me see your hands." Meanwhile Ivar approached the door to close and lock it.</p><p>"Do you mind if I shower? You can hold the gun outside the bathroom. I won't try anything."<br/>
Ivar shook his head. He returned to the bed and pushed Heahmund down gently, towards the mattress. He would remove those cuffs. Grant him a little freedom. But no more. He retrieved the key and sat down next to the cop. "No shower. I'm anticipating a busy night, I can't keep my eyes on everything at once. Unless you would like that? Being watched naked by me and my business partners?"<br/>
Ivar hoped the answer would be no. He didn't bother telling Heahmund what he was expecting, that it was a gang war rather than his usual trade business. He was waiting for some kind of note from his lackeys. An update on the wolves... or Hvitserk.<br/>
Ivar sighed. "I wish the circumstances were different. I'd shower with you. Now lie down."</p><p>"Can I get that medicine? Please?" Heahmund didn't seem to lie down anytime soon. He looked uncomfortable. His eyes seemed hopeless. "How long are you going to keep me alive?"</p><p>Now Ivar stood up. He tossed his crutch away, not caring about the noise of the aluminum hitting the floor. "I said..." His arms were strong. He'd spent half his life in a wheelchair, the other half on crutches. With those arms he gave Heahmund a rough push against the shoulders, sending him backwards onto the mattress. "<i>...lie down!</i>"<br/>
The next moment Ivar's weight was back on Heahmund's lap, just like earlier on the couch. But this time he didn't just sit there and kiss him, he much rather had a little fight with his own legs, until he straddled the older properly. One hand was placed next to Heahmund's head. Ivar held his own body up, while his face was lingering above Heahmund's for a moment. Looking down into his eyes, his hair falling into his face like canopy curtains, he smiled one of his darker smiles. "Turn around."<br/>
As he gave the command, he made sure he held most of his weight up on his arms, allowing Heahmund some narrow space to comply.</p><p>"Asshole." Heahmund mumbled as Ivar pushed him around on the bed. Then he suddenly leaned up and captured Ivar's lips in a quick kiss, before he turned around as Ivar wished.<br/>
Another kiss. This time it filled the younger with sadness, because he wished the situation would be different. What if he had not been panicking under the influence of drugs, back at the concert. What if he had stayed, instead of leaving early...<br/>
Now it was complicated. <i>Heahmund the musician</i> was gone, he had turned into Heahmund the cop. The one who found out too much about his business and his brother. He could never let him go again. One day he would have to grant him a quick death. And depending on the outcome of the night, that day would come soon.</p><p>The quiet click of the key opening the lock of the cuffs filled the room. Carefully, gently, Ivar removed the metal from Heahmund's wrists.<br/>
For a moment he remained seated. Then he let himself drop down to the side, roll onto the mattress next to Heahmund. Lying on his back, staring at the ceiling he whispered, almost voiceless: "Make me keep you alive."</p><p>"How? I really don’t know what to say or do that will help my situation. So many things have gone wrong for me. Even this moment. I've managed to fuck it all up. But I don't regret it. I don't regret a damn thing because no matter what happens, for the first time in my life, in these past few hours with you, I've felt alive. I have felt more here with you than I have ever felt before. So I guess I owe you thanks for that." </p><p>Ivar listened to Heahmund's rambling without saying a word. They lay next to each other, Heahmund idly rubbing his chafed wrists. The anger was gone, just like the heat. But something about the words the older said soothed Ivar.<br/>
"Take your medicine." He glanced to the side, to Heahmund who still lay next to him. "You're tired. Rest." </p><p>Ivar's focus now lay on figuring out how to survive. Both of them. Within a matter of hours, this place could turn into a battlefield. Ivar scratched his head. All the fumbling with his hair had made it feel greasy, and he hated it. "I'll take a shower in the morning, once my work is done." He hesitated. "You can take one as well. But for now you should rest."</p><p>He sat up and rolled his eyes at himself for leaving his crutches so far from the bed. He moved with shaky legs, taking one step after the other, like a child that learned to walk alone for the first time. When he reached the wall, the doorbell rang. One last glance at Heahmund, then he left the room and locked the door again behind him. Safety measures.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Hot Shower</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Attention: this chapter is NSFW. If you enjoy your NSFW read on.<br/>I have organized the story in a way that the chapter can also be skipped if needed :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <b>Chapter 9: Hot Shower</b>
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  <i>Nothing.</i>
</p><p>Nothing happened that night. Sixty times Ivar checked his phone, once every ten minutes. No message from - or otherwise concerning - Hvitserk. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe he had really turned off his phone and gone into hiding.</p><p>As he re-entered his bedroom the next morning, Ivar could hear the unsteady breath and soft grunts of Heahmund waking up. He left the door open this time. Even if he tried to escape, the loft doors were locked and the gun hidden in another room.<br/>"Good morning sweetheart," Ivar greeted his prisoner in a monotonous, if not outright mocking voice. He sat on the mattress and felt for Heahmund's forehead. The room smelled sweaty, and a touch of the skin confirmed it: the man in his bed was not feeling too well, and probably more in need of a shower now than ever before. "Can you sit up?"</p><p>"Give me a sec."<br/>The younger nodded slightly and waited for Heahmund to sit up. He looked miserable, hugging his legs and hanging his head down low. The sweaty hair sprawled across his knees. He seemed to have trouble to adjust to the darkness of the room, with shut windows and no light inside. And yet, at least he talked to him. "What now? Are you cuffing me somewhere else? Taking me somewhere?"</p><p>"Is your head okay?" Ivar ignored the question Heahmund asked. He thought of the other man as a little... overdramatic. Constantly asking what would happen, as if Ivar had some evil master plan of torturing him to death. "You wanted to shower, right?"<br/>His hand found its way to Heahmund's head again, this time stroking through his hair. "And I think you need it."<br/>The touch was brief. After just a moment Ivar sat up straight again and got ready to stand up.<br/>"The bathroom lies inside, no windows. We can turn on the lights while we're in there. I'm not keeping you blind. I'm keeping you safe."</p><p>Heahmund stood up and then sat down again right away. This was to expect, considering his condition. With a soft touch, Ivar started to guide him, back onto his feet, and out of the room.<br/>"Right. You're keeping me safe? From what? That's bullshit, Ivar. I'm either leverage or collateral damage. You know as well as I do that in the long run, I'm no one to you. Stop acting as if you care."</p><p>A grin on his lips, Ivar kept quiet. Once they reached the bathroom, Ivar took one of Heahmund's hands in his own. He must have placed them back to his back in his sleep, forgotten that he was free to move now. Slowly, he guided him towards the light switch, and to turn on the light.<br/>Ivar's private bathroom was small, and nothing special. A narrow room with two basins. Two doors led to the shower and toilet cabin. To him, the narrowness was one of the best things about it. When he was standing up he could walk, holding himself on the walls, without needing his crutches. <br/>Just like now, he walked without a crutch - stiffly - but he managed. He pushed Heahmund towards the first door. Behind it lay the shower - too narrow to be a group shower, but large enough for two. A small room with ceramic tiles at the walls and floor. He didn't care about undressing Heahmund. He wanted him in there, leaning against the walls if he must, getting soaked in the dim light.<br/>Ivar entered the shower with him.</p><p>The water hit him unexpectedly. He had not seen Heahmund turn the knobs, had not realized the other man was waking up and now, apparently, playing his own game with him. Heahmund's laughter filled the small room, before Ivar could as much as adjust to the cold wetness. "Bloody hell," he cursed. For a moment his eyes widened, he felt stunned. But then he laughed as well. A little hysterical at first, but as soon as the initial shock wore off, he could find joy in the action.<br/>So much to undressing first, or for preparing some soft towels for comfort after the shower. If he was all honest with himself, Ivar had those movie scenes in mind, where people got emotional under the shower. Tender hugs, desperate kisses, under a stream of water. Soaking wet white shirts, drops hiding tears... This wasn't it. This <i>clearly</i> wasn't it.<br/>At least he could feel the water getting warmer, as Heahmund fumbled on the knobs again.<br/>"You feeling better, <i>sweetheart</i>?"</p><p>Ivar didn't answer. His eyes were glued on Heahmund, who joined him under the stream. On his hands undressing his shirt. <i>There it was. The movie moment.</i> He licked his lips watching Heahmund open his pants. But he didn't move - not yet. He waited until Heahmund was undressed down to the underwear, which he got rid of last. Maybe it was curiosity that held him back. As if he wanted to see Heahmund do it.<br/><i>Naked...</i> Ivar's eyes greedily scanned his body. It was a rare sight to him, another man.<br/>He himself was still fully dressed, and he was not quite ready to change that. He would have to, soaked as he was, but... he didn't want to ask for help, and much less expose his scars. Instead he leaned in and embraced Heahmund. It took him a second or two to stabilize himself, his legs threatening to give in. Then he reached up to hold Heahmund's head and kissed him. A demanding kiss, forceful, not asking any questions. Ivar knew what he wanted. He had tasted him before, he had tested his limits already. Now he wanted the man to desire him again. And he wanted him to lose control... so that Ivar could regain it.</p><p>Heahmund got what he wanted - the medicine, the bed, the shower, free hands. Now it was Ivar's turn. A metallic taste fills his mouth, as he bit on Heahmund's lip. He quickly reached down to hold onto his waist. <i>Not letting go, not now.</i><br/>Heahmund's hands found their way up to Ivar's hair, tangling themselves in the long strands.<br/>Ivar staggered backwards, still holding him close, until he could feel a tiled wall in his back. He needed it, so he wouldn't fall the moment he let go.</p><p>Ivar didn't notice how he was starting to pant, how fast his heart was beating. Not thinking about it, he licked over his lips and tasted Heahmund's blood again. His eyes were fixed on those of the other man. No words. Not a command, no question, not even a taunting remark. What he saw in Heahmund's eyes reflected his own desire.<br/>Ivar's left hand found Heahmund's hips and he pulled him even closer, pressed him against the rough fabric of his jeans. His right hand found a strong grip on his shoulder, his fingernails seemed to pierce into the other man's naked skin. Ivar was cold. His clothes were soaked, the walls not yet heated. The warm water seemed <i>way too far away</i>. But Heahmund's body provided some warmth, warmth he needed. <i>So much he needed him</i> right there. He leaned forwards, just slightly, to kiss him again, to lick over his lips.</p><p>Heahmund's hands fell down towards his hips and got a hold of the waistband of his pants. A question of two words, his voice quiet and rough: "May I?"<br/>"Yes," Ivar said under his breath.</p><p>He wasn't sure if that was the right answer. He shouldn't do this. Even if Heahmund had not been a cop... Ivar still felt ashamed showing himself to someone he didn't have full control over. His weak legs, his scars. His...<br/>"But there is something you should know," he whispered. He tried to push his mind away from the scars. He could lie about them in his sleep: he hated his body, <i>that's all.</i> What was a small row of lines in comparison to all the surgery scars, if he would even notice them. Some confidence and distraction could hide those scars right under people's noses. But there was something else. Something he could not hide. Something Heahmund would notice the moment he was undressed. <br/>"It's not your fault." He didn't know how else to say it. That he couldn't always grow hard, and if so, not stay that way for long. That it was unlikely to work without some extra help. Ivar took a deep breath. He didn't have the patience to explain it, nor did he want to show him all his weaknesses at once. "It doesn't work like this. I can't let you touch me."<br/>Ivar hated himself a little for it, because he was definitely craving Heahmund, in many ways. But it wasn't the place or the time for that, even though he feared of missing his one chance to feel Heahmund all over him.<br/>Ivar let one of his hands wander to the front of Heahmund's body, down to his erection. He gave it a soft, caressing stroke, afraid that it could soften now that he admitted complications.<br/>"Just let me touch you, yes?"</p><p>It took a while until Heahmund seemed to understand what he meant, at least to some degree. <br/>"We only go as far as you want. I won’t pressure you, Ivar. And yes, you can touch me however you like for as long as you want."<br/>Heahmund's lips sealed Ivar's and the younger moaned into the kiss. It was partially his frustration building up, partially he was just turned on by Heahmund - naked in his shower. His lips on his own, his firm movements and sweet words.<br/>"However I like?" Ivar breathed when they parted and gave the man another few strokes. Then he removed his hand and put it back on his shoulder. "Help me down. My left leg is a bitch, the nerves are damaged."<br/>His right leg wasn't much better, his ankle sometimes refused to be stable, but he could deal with it.<br/>"I can't do much from up here." A weak grin found its way to his lips when he thought about all the physical control he had demonstrated so far. What would Heahmund say now, when he relied on him to help him move?<br/>"Just help me sit." Another kiss, just little more than a peck, to reassure the other that he wanted to continue this as much as him.</p><p>"Lean on me and I'll help you." That was all Heahmund said. No questions, no hesitation. Relieved that he just helped him down, Ivar closed his eyes for a moment. Even those few words of the older bothered him, as if they brought more attention to it than necessary.<br/><i>No,</i> he reminded himself. Heahmund was <i>considerate.</i> He was amazingly calm about it.<br/>"Just let me know what you need, next time."</p><p>When he could hear the other's breath near his ear, when he could feel his lips soon after, he smiled. He reached up to Heahmund's head and held him close, so he could whisper into his ear in turn. "Next time? We have plenty of time this time."<br/>Of course he was excited that Heahmund was already planning ahead. Did he already come to terms with the fact he was staying in Ivar's loft? He wouldn't tease him about it now, it wasn't the right time. Ivar could feel the tiles at his back. They weren't all cold anymore, the small room was heating up quickly with the warm water running. His legs were still dressed in soaking wet jeans, and his socks let the stream of water through to his feet. And yet... this was oddly comfortable.<br/>"Get on your knees." Ivar grinned, when he realized what he had just demanded. A cop on his knees before him. He had to bite on his lips not to ask him to beg as well. Instead he answered Heahmund's previous biting by licking over his earlobe.</p><p>"Has anyone ever told you that you're insufferably bossy and demanding?"<br/>Ivar could hear the amusement hiding in Heahmund's voice. But he complied. He was sitting on his knees in front of Ivar, leaning forwards to taunt him a little. "Don't think for one moment that you will always get your way with me, Ivar. You push me, I'll push you back."<br/><i>You've not come this far to withdraw and negotiate,</i> Ivar thought, but he knew better than to say it out loud. Instead he just chuckled against Heahmund's lips when he kissed him again. <br/>The next moment he could feel his teeth, a small sting of pain in his lower lip. His fist clenched in Heahmund's hair and he pulled him away. "Whatever you do to me, I'll do to you," he hissed, but it didn't sound angry, rather bemused and playful.<br/>To demonstrate what he meant, he bowed down and kissed Heahmund's nipple softly, only to tease it with his teeth the next moment. His hands wandered downwards. He pushed Heahmund's arms away gently where he needed some space, pressed against his torso, as a quiet command to lean back rather than forwards, and then he found his length again and continued stroking it.<br/>"How much do you want to feel my mouth?" he whispered.</p><p>"How much? Very much," Heahmund answered promptly. He opened his eyes that had fallen shut under Ivar's touch. "Please?"<br/>Ivar's expression softened, a genuine smile, before he leaned forward, down on Heahmund's lap. The shower still sprayed down somewhere behind them - or did it run down Heahmund's head? Ivar looked up again just to check, to see Heahmund's face once more. <i>If people feel lust - if they really enjoy a situation, their face looks better than ever.</i> The flushed skin, the water drops from the shower. Soft, full lips. No anger or disappointment. And Heahmund was especially beautiful in this moment.</p><p>Ivar quickly lowered his face again, to make sure what he saw would last. He licked over the tip of the erection, teased it all around with his tongue. A bit lower... and he could lick the underside, while his lips brushed over the head, slowly taking it in. No rough movements, just caressing him within the warmth of his mouth and the soft touch of his tongue. <br/>Again, strong hands entangled their fingers in Ivar's hair, and the younger allowed Heahmund to guide him. He took him in whenever he could feel Heahmund's hand tense, and released him when he felt no more push or pull. His hand did the rest of the work. When he lifted his head he made a point to lick along the small slit. Down again.</p><p>Ivar had not done this before, but he had seen it endless times. He had studied it in porn movies, his favorites. He had read about the anatomy. He wanted to know what he was telling his <i>girls</i> to do. And he also was curious, terribly curious. He started to wonder if Heahmund would do the same to him, and if it would work. Even just the thought let him shiver in anticipation. Again he lowered his mouth, but this time, instead of going all down, he let his tongue roam and search for a sweet spot.</p><p>Moans filled the space between them, and within those soft sounds, he heard a word. <i>Soon.</i><br/><i>Soon?</i> Ivar chuckled quietly, no sound leaving his lips besides a few huffs around Heahmund's length. A little more pressure of his lips. Then he proceeded to lift his head, released him with a soft, smooching noise and pushed Heahmund's hand away, so he would not push him right back down.<br/>He moved up, pushed Heahmund back to the floor and straddled him. Kneeling hurt a little, but he didn't mind it. The dull feeling of pressure vanished far behind a veil of lust and desire.<br/>Heahmund under him, a sight he would gladly pay for in pain. <i>Soon.</i> He didn't linger to watch the man, as much as he wanted to. One hand next to Heahmund's shoulder held his weight, while he leaned down and kissed him deeply. His hand moved back to the erection between them, and he gave him a few strong, demanding strokes.</p><p>He was sure he had moaned as well, not just from lust, but also from pain when Heahmund's fingers dug into his skin and  bruised his shoulders. Good pain. Now all that was left was some kind of echo in his head. Ivar took his time to look at the other man, who lay in his shower. The water fell down on his face, hitting his closed eyes and making his lashes look longer and darker. Those nicely shaped lips, red from the kissing, wet from the shower. Ivar watched his chest rise and fall with each breath Heahmund took. This... was his deed. And it felt empowering.<br/>When his eyes wandered lower, Ivar quickly reached up and cleaned his hand under the stream of water. He didn't care if he washed it down onto Heahmund's face. Heahmund... had started to be sassy. He deserved it.</p><p>Ivar was very aware of his wet pants now, which would prove to be a struggle to get out of. With another moan he got up, but this time it was just pain, no more lust. He had to push his one knee into place, to hold it while he bent his other. There was a handle at the wall, and he needed to grab it to stand again. But then he stood and he looked down at Heahmund, who was, quite literally, fucked... and he grinned. He couldn't stop himself. He had to mock him.<br/>"Was this shower to your liking, <i>your grace</i>?"</p><p>A roll of his eyes. "The shower felt fine <i>King Ivar</i>."<br/>King Ivar? Instead of getting angry, he grinned at the title, widely. Oh how he'd love to be a king. Everyone would serve him, not for money or trade deals, but as their holy duty. Everyone would offer him what he needed and he could do what he truly wanted. <br/>Then Heahmund went on. "Our date started backwards. I was supposed to get dinner and a movie first. Sex was supposed to be at the end but it's ok. I don't mind improvising and I'm flexible."</p><p>"I like that," Ivar whispered, still with a grin. "Dinner and movie, noted. But we're playing by my rules. Whatever it is, what I say will be law. You're my <i>guest</i> and if I want it so, I'll chain you up in the boiler room." Harsh words for such a joyful expression. <br/>"Do you ever do anything except throw threats around Ivar?"</p><p>Silence. Then Heahmund nodded to his pants. "Do you need help?"<br/>Ivar's smile faded. He didn't need help. Or rather - he didn't <i>want to</i> need help. Because of course any help would make it much easier. But it would be degrading, humiliating. And he really didn't want to show Heahmund all his scars yet. He shook his head. "I'll do it alone." <br/>He left the shower first, grabbed a large towel and walked over to the small toilet room with a scowl.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Messenger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: this chapter describes a situation looking like suicide.<br/>It also contains some detailed description of scars and self-harm.<br/>Read at your own risk, make sure you stay safe. I'll add the next, lighter chapter soon!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <b>Chapter 10: The Messenger</b>
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  <i>"Look at all those scars. He must have suffered a lot."</i><br/>
<i>"His legs? Yes. But look at these. They're different."</i>
</p><p>It had started with his father's death. He had to avenge him.<br/>
But once the line was crossed, it was hard to stop. One man, two men. Once there, what would be the difference of one more? Killing was strangely addicting. Empowering.<br/>
If he had the power to decide who lived and who died, what could stop him?<br/>
How far could he go, until he was caught?</p><p>One week after the shower Heahmund was still sleeping in Ivar's bed. When he found him asleep, Ivar carefully added opiates to his bottle of water. <i>Sleep some more.</i><br/>
If he could, he would have started injecting him heroin to bind him with an addiction. But he didn't want Heahmund to notice. He tried to approach him in two ways: calm him down and make him sleep until the situation would allow further action. And gain his trust, so they could hopefully work together.<br/>
Ivar's aim was to eradicate the wolves, and then they would deal with Ubbe. Or that was what he told himself, what he planned. With every day Heahmund seemed less likely to cooperate. To be able to cooperate. He was getting weaker, mentally as well as physically.</p><p>Ivar glanced at his phone. He tilted his head, when he saw a message from one of his dealers.<br/>
He had less contact to the scene, now that he tried to stay undercover. But a few loyal lackeys still followed him and continued his business.<br/>
<tt>Remember the party with those Russian girls and the pictures you took? I found a cool picture frame. Will match the one you had printed. I leave it at your door.</tt></p><p><i>Finally.</i> The one informant on whose removal would solve some their problems. With a sigh, Ivar stood up and walked towards the backdoor. One hand at his crutch, he quickly typed with the other, not caring about the typos he made.<br/>
<tt>Your weekend was nice? Everything as planned?</tt><br/>
He opened the door and turned around the corner towards the trash bins. There it was. He had indeed gotten a picture frame. And inside, printed on cheap copy paper, was the picture he'd asked to get.</p><p>It was one of his own girls. One of those he had offered a room, in exchange for services. She was beautiful, her pale breasts were uncovered, her fingernails painted red. One could almost think she was sleeping.<br/>
She had sold info on him. It was not easy to order to get her killed while he had to keep an eye on both his brother and his prisoner, but he managed. And now he got proof of the result. Her pale lips, the deep cuts on her wrists... the amount of blood in the water of the bathtub.<br/>
She was probably still lying there, in the apartment house next door, just across the street. He had not heard sirens of an ambulance or police car. How long until she was found?</p><p>His phone buzzed.<br/>
<tt>It was sweet. Calmer than I expected. And my girlfriend enjoyed the trip.</tt><br/>
Ivar grinned. He took the picture out of the frame to look at it closely, tossing the frame back into the trash. Indeed, his girl had a faint smile on her lips. Now he just could hope his lackey did a clean job and left no traces. She was just a poor girl living in a run-down neighborhood. Addicted, and when she ran out of heroin, she would take her last dose and cut her wrists. A nice little sob story nobody would talk about the next day.</p><p>Ivar took a small key from his pocket and hid it in an empty cigarette pack, before he typed his next message.<br/>
<tt>Oh man, I envy you. I can't take a vacation for the next 1250 days or so.</tt><br/>
Right after sending the message, he got a laughing smiley. The key and number would open a safe. Proof collected and payment done, Ivar returned to his loft. On his way he tore the picture in little snippets and flushed them down the toilet. He sneaked back into the small office room, trying to make as little sound as possible, not to wake Heahmund up.</p><p>But Ivar lay awake.</p><p>It all went like planned. One worry less. And yet... something was missing.<br/>
He glanced to his nightstand, then to Heahmund next to him. He had killed her - ordered her killed, which was the same. He might not have watched her die, but he was responsible for her nevertheless. And he had not yet tallied her.</p><p>It had become a compulsion. The case was not closed until he did it.<br/>
Again, he looked to Heahmund, watched him lay in the bed unmoving. Slowly, he opened the drawer to retrieve the knife. When he got it, he sat up. He felt like he was acting in slow motion, and he kept glancing back to the other man. He held his breath, counted to three. Then he faked a sleepy voice and whispered: " 'gonna go... bathroom."</p><p>He wasn't sure if Heahmund had heard him, but if his sleep had been light, he would not question it any further. And Ivar didn't even lie, he actually went to the bathroom. It was just a different kind of relief.<br/>
Once in the small toilet room, he closed the door and pulled down his pants. His last two scars had barely healed. There was no more scab, but they were standing out dark pink against his light skin. With a sigh he placed the knife next to the last one. The next free spot. </p><p>The cut was done fast, and he enjoyed the feeling. It gave him a slight rush, fading out when the cut filled with blood and burned in irritation. One drop ran down his thigh. Ivar stared at it in fascination, before he realized he had to return to the bedroom - soon and clean. He quickly dried it up and got dressed. <i>It's my body I hate,</i> he told himself in his thoughts, practicing the lie. <i>I can't stand it.</i> He forced his mind away from the order he had made, and the picture he had received. <i>It helps me forget...</i></p><p>Again, he sneaked into the bed, this time with a much calmer mind.<br/>
He lay down next to Heahmund and fell fast asleep.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Spilled Coffee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heahmund and Ivar play a game... and turn the tables.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <b>Chapter 11: Spilled Coffee</b>
</p><p>He had probably noticed he was getting drugged by his captor, bur Heahmund said no word. He would just wipe the sweat from his forehead with a frown, and reach for his water bottle. </p><p>"I'm not gonna cut your heroin."<br/>
Right. They were talking business.</p><p>Ivar couldn't remember how long it took them to get there. Weeks or a month? It was merely one of those memories that came up, one that made him smile in his sleep, but also feel a burning sting in his heart.<br/>
He had allowed himself to become weak. He, who sold addiction to others, got addicted to a cop.</p><p>"If you want a job then take one of the fucking jobs I offer."</p><p>"<i>Fuck you,</i> Ivar!"<br/>
Ivar had to grin when he saw Heahmund crossing his arms, over there on his couch. A grown ass man, acting like a stubborn child.<br/>
"I'm not a drug dealer, I'm a fucking cop."</p><p>Ivar leaned back in his own armchair and answered Heahmund's cursing by showing his middle finger and licking at it demonstratively, from the palm up to the tip. He had a better job for the man, but not yet. He wasn't ready yet. "Be patient. I like you, you'll survive this."</p><p>They had many conversations like this. Through his thoughts he could hear Heahmund call him an asshole. Ivar shrugged. So be it, he was an asshole. He didn't have the impression that Heahmund disliked him.<br/>
And in fact, Heahmund was already laughing quietly. A weird mix of despair and amusement.<br/>
"Addiction doesn't have to be substance related. I think we both know if there wasn't something you'd get out of this, something that makes you crave for more, you'd left."</p><p>The older sighed. For a moment he seemed to think, then he spoke quieter than before.<br/>
"Maybe it's the thrill, the danger. Crossing the lines, tasting some forbidden fruits. Who knows?"<br/>
That wasn't it. Ivar knew it had to do with him, otherwise Heahmund had snatched his phone for an emergency call, left and went skydiving or whatever else gave him the kicks. But he wouldn't question it. Too sweet was the chance to taunt him some more.<br/>
"So cutting heroin isn't forbidden enough?" </p><p>Ivar patted on his thigh with a flat hand. "Come here. And bring your gun."<br/>
Heahmund complied, but he frowned and rolled his eyes. "I'm not sitting on your lap."<br/>
"Didn't think you would, but it was worth a try." Ivar nodded towards the gun on the table and repeated his demand. "Bring your gun."</p><p>"Why? I'm not playing Russian Roulette with you."<br/>
All those things Heahmund would not do. Ivar shook his head slightly.<br/>
Russian Roulette had the disadvantage that the winners had little control over the death of the losers. It was not a game Ivar would like, he needed control. But he wanted to play something indeed.<br/>
"You said you liked the adrenaline. Now make up your mind and come here."</p><p>"Truth or Dare?" Ivar asked and smiled up to Heahmund like a child welcoming a birthday guest, once the older gave in and brought his gun. Heahmund huffed slightly in surprise. "Truth."</p><p>"How much longer do you want to stay?" Ivar still smiled, his hand on the armrest. His fingers traced the structure of the fabric, without looking at it. An idle movement. Heahmund answered, but he took his time. "I'm not sure yet. I don't know."<br/>
At least he was honest and didn't attempt to convince Ivar he wanted to go. The younger nodded. "Dare." He liked the uncertainty of what would happen.</p><p>"I dare you to give me a key and to trust me with it," Heahmund prompted, starting to grin.<br/>
"I'm not sure if you're ready," Ivar said quietly. <i>Trust</i> was a lot to ask for. But he played along. He reached into his pocket and removed one key from the ring. "An old emergency exit." He reached it over.<br/>
Heahmund didn't seem to care much about the key, he didn't even look at it. "Dare."</p><p>"Shoot me," Ivar said calmly, looking Heahmund in the eyes. It was a test. Of course it was. But beside this, it was also a demonstration of how little Ivar was scared of the other man.<br/>
Heahmund complied. He pointed his gun at Ivar's forehead and pulled the trigger.</p><p>Just a click. No bullet left the gun. But Ivar swallowed. He was not sure if this was a good or a bad sign. Was Heahmund willing to shoot him? Did he know the gun was not loaded? Or did he follow his commands no matter what they were?<br/>
"Truth," he mumbled, looking down to the floor for a moment to sort his mind.</p><p>"Did you really think I'd shoot you?"<br/>
He looked up again. "Yes. But I hoped you wouldn't."<br/>
It was the first time he allowed himself to seem insecure. With a sigh the younger stood up to regain some power. Heahmund picked truth.<br/>
"Why don't you get me arrested?"</p><p>"I have no reason to arrest you, and if I'm being honest, I don't want to. Your turn."<br/>
"You have plenty of reason," Ivar mumbled, but he didn't want to complain. He thought for a moment, then chose a dare.</p><p>"I dare you to handcuff yourself."<br/>
Was that a smug grin on Heahmund's lips? Ivar removed the cuffs from the belt loop of his pants and put them around his wrists. He kept them in the front, but he let the cuffs snap in and lock. It was just fair, and only a small disadvantage. If Heahmund wanted, he could have done this much earlier. "Done."</p><p>Heahmund nodded. "My turn. Dare."<br/>
Ivar took a few small and careful steps towards the nearby kitchen counters and leaned against them. "Make us dinner." Now he grinned. "As you see - I can't."</p><p>"You’re a brave man trusting me to cook. While I try - your turn."<br/>
Ivar had more alcohol and snacks in his cupboards than anything else. By the looks of it, he seemed to live mostly on coffee and salted nuts. He actually ordered food often, or warmed up ready-made dinner. He was a bad cook and didn't want to stand in the kitchen for long. "Truth," he said and shook his hands to make the cuffs rattle. "My acting is limited."</p><p>He watched Heahmund seek for food. There was some basics in the fridge. And beer, several bottles of beer. "<i>For Christ's sake, Ivar.</i> Do you ever actually eat food? This is stocked for a 12 year old. But enough coffee and beer to last a world war."<br/>
He settled to make breakfast for dinner.<br/>
"Truth it is. Why are keeping me here? You could have had me locked away somewhere else."</p><p>"Ah..." - Ivar tilted his head back, still leaning against the counter. He couldn't tell him the whole truth. He needed a few seconds to find a good compromise of telling what he thought but not telling it all. "It's fun. I like having you here as much as you like to stay. And I like you. You're interesting. Would be a shame to lock such a handsome man away." Or worse, but he didn't add that bit.<br/>
He thought of the young men he had killed, and those he had locked in dark rooms to punish bad behavior. Sure, Heahmund being attractive played a role in why he enjoyed having him around. Why he would kiss him, and all that. But the true reason was another. He considered it to be fate that Heahmund was the one whose phone he searched, whom he took home. But in the end it had been his plan from the start, to take home whoever was searching him. He was simply lucky that it had been this one. The musician. And he was doing well.<br/>
"It's looking good," he said with a nod to the food.</p><p>Heahmund picked <i>truth</i> while he served the food.<br/>
"Why didn't you run away yet?" Ivar asked. He didn't doubt Heahmund had thought of it, he wanted to know what kept him around.<br/>
"It shouldn’t be that hard to figure out. I like you. I feel something when I'm with you and I'd like to explore where it will go."<br/>
Was that all? The whole truth? It seemed so simple.</p><p>"Where's the key? You need your hands to eat."<br/>
Ivar's grin turned devious. "My right front pocket."<br/>
He lifted the hands to scratch his neck. A bit awkwardly... but since he cuffed them in the front, it worked. Technically, he could even eat like this, but he enjoyed the thought of Heahmund getting close to him to get the key. "It's your turn."</p><p>When Heahmund moved closer to retrieve the key, Ivar's breath went heavy. He understood what Heahmund meant, that he felt something. Heahmund's lips found his, while his hands opened the cuffs. "Dare." A whisper in the narrow space between them.</p><p>For a second Ivar thought about just daring Heahmund to fuck him over the kitchen counters, but it would be a waste of good food. So he took another deep breath and settled on something simpler.<br/>
"I dare you to kneel on the ground while I eat, like a faithful servant."</p><p>"I'm not your dog, Ivar."<br/>
"Then we stop playing."<br/>
<i>"Asshole."</i></p><p>And yet... Heahmund complied. Ivar's smile was bright as he watched the other man kneel. He did it. He actually did it. "Do you like it when I'm in command?"<br/>
Some people had a kink like that after all. It even made sense to him... that a man of power would enjoy a different role from time to time. It would make things easier. He changed the fork into his left hand and used the right to pet Heahmund's head, like one would do with an actual dog.</p><p>Visibly annoyed, Heahmund finished his plate and got up to clean his plate and make coffee.<br/>
"I didn't tell you to get up yet." - a snarl, but Ivar didn't look angry. He waited for a second,  for Heahmund to excuse himself or to snarl back at him. But he then realized Heahmund was likely not the type for excuses and that they shouldn't fight. "Truth," he offered to break his own silence. He pushed his plate a few inches towards Heahmund as a hint to clean the plate as well.<br/>
This all was far more than just a game. It was Heahmund's training.</p><p>"Why do you keep testing me? To see if I can follow orders?"<br/>
Ivar snickered at the question. "Maybe I am. But I don't want you to get the wrong impression. You're not one of my lackeys. You're below and it's a hard way up." He'd have to admit he was bluffing, but it was his game and he got a little impatient with Heahmund testing his limits.<br/>
"Now clean my plate."</p><p>"I'm not one of your lackeys."<br/>
At that, Ivar took his plate and threw it against the coffee cup, effectively shattering both against the kitchen wall and leaving a puddle of coffee on the counter. The answer came promptly, the next best cup Heahmund could reach smashed beside Ivar's head.<br/>
His breath went fast, he had to force himself calm, so he didn't just push and throw all he could reach at Heahmund. His mind was racing. Why would Heahmund still fight him? Would he have to lock him away in one of his dark rooms?</p><p>And then he kissed him. Just like that. On impulse, Ivar pushed him away by his chest, but Heahmund was stronger the way he was standing before him. On the next impulse, his hand clenched in the fabric of his shirt, not wanting to let him go. His mind wiped empty besides one thought: <i>Fuck. Heahmund is winning.</i></p><p>"What is this we're doing Ivar? Is this all just a game to you?"<br/>
Heahmund's voice was rough, still a little agitated.<br/>
"It's not just a game," Ivar replied quickly.<br/>
"But the game setting makes it easier. If I did it differently, you'd be less willing to cooperate."<br/>
That was honest. Ivar had no reason to lie. Heahmund surely knew what he was doing between the bits of fun they had.</p><p>The shards of the dish and cup went into the sink in a loud rattling, when they cleaned the counters. "Don't think I'd just let you go like that." A plan started to form, something he thought of while he was cleaning. If Heahmund didn't play along, then Ivar would have to force him. Until eventually he would obey. If putting morphine into his water wasn't enough, he would try something stronger.<br/>
"Dare."</p><p>"I dare you to give me back my stuff. My gun, my keys, my cuffs, my phone. Everything."</p><p>Ivar's muscles tensed, with his hands pressing against the counter, and his arms started shaking under the strain when he finally turned around. "Okay," he replied... and smiled. A smile that might still have seemed a little forced, but was a smile nevertheless.<br/>
The smile turned into a grin, as he remembered how he rendered Heahmund's phone unusable. "But I'm keeping the ammo. It's safer that way."</p>
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